Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

anticipation.
    Fiercely she told herself to stop being so foolish. Despite Trevor Breton being intensely appealing with a dark handsomeness which she found impossible to ignore, he despised her. She could easily imagine his jeers if he discovered how the caress of his hands warmed her.
    â€œThank you,” she said coolly. Inwardly she congratulated herself on her ability to act as if everything were normal. She was grateful the brim of her beaver hat hid any betraying blush on her overheated cheeks. Such coloring she could not blame on the spring sunshine.
    â€œMy pleasure, Miss Hampton.”
    â€œCan’t you say something to me just once without it reeking of sarcasm?” she demanded, more angry at herself than at him. She could not imagine why this man’s touch wrenched away all her self-defenses.
    â€œWhy?” He took the reins of both horses and walked them to a nearby bush. Tying them to the briars, he returned to where she stood. He asked again, “Why should I be pleasant to you?”
    â€œI am Owen’s guest.”
    â€œYou are his ward!” He laughed as he saw her wince. “Simply because you are Lord Foxbridge’s pampered pet, I do not have to like you.”
    Hurt by his vicious words, she put her hands on her waist and glowered at him. “Not liking me would be a decided improvement on the present situation. Of course it really doesn’t matter to me whether you like me or not! I am not the one who hired you.” She raised her riding crop to emphasize her point. “Just remember—”
    He grasped the small whip. When she moved backward in shock, he put his arm around her waist and kept her motionless. Twisting the wooden handle from her fingers, he threw it onto the ground. His fingers caught her cheeks in his viselike grip, and he forced her to look up at him. “I will tell you this only once, Miss Hampton. I won’t allow you to threaten me or Foxbridge Cloister. Your coy games haven’t fooled me. Play the strumpet if you wish, but do it elsewhere. Lord Foxbridge has few years left. I don’t wish you to shorten those years with your pranks.”
    She tried to speak, but no intelligible words emerged past her lips, distorted by his grip. Rage gave her a strength she normally did not possess. She ripped her head out of his hand. Pushing on him, she broke his hold around her. Her chest heaved with the enormity of her efforts, but she was free. “You misguided misanthrope!” she spat.
    Coldly he laughed. “I don’t hate everyone, Miss Hampton. Just pretty ladies who try to gain a title by seducing men older than their fathers. I can see you don’t intend to be like your father and end up with nothing.”
    â€œI don’t want to listen to you! I don’t want to hear your insults to my father. He was a good man, not wise in the ways of financial dealings perhaps, but he was a good man. He was not—not—”
    Trevor did not finish the sentence. From her expression, he could tell she was honestly outraged. He refused to believe what his eyes showed him. “Don’t you know what Alfred Hampton did for a living? Don’t you ever wonder where your mother is?”
    â€œMy mother is dead! Father told me she died when I was born. He always was very sad when he spoke of her. He loved her so much. I think that is the reason he never remarried.” Her chin rose in pride as she stated, “My father was a courtier at the court of Queen Elizabeth. He was renowned for his wit and his charm. If that is a crime, sir, then he was guilty to the highest degree.”
    The fury which had controlled him from the moment he heard this woman was invading Foxbridge Cloister ebbed. She meant her words sincerely. How she had stayed so innocent in that house was a great mystery. It seemed Hampton had been determined his daughter would never learn of his sordid life while he was alive. Suddenly he discovered he did